Never
by marisa lee
Summary: Never is a long time. - Rated T for darkness and death -


**Title: Never**

**Rating: T for darkness .-.**

**Summary: Never is a long time.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the story.**

**A/N: Happy Sunday :)**

**Funerals inspire me, I'm sorry. ;3;**

**xoxo -ml**

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**Never**

I remember when I was a kid, I always used to make fun of my elders. They were so slow, so useless, so... _old_.

I used to think I'd never grow old.

Never is a pretty long time.

Of course, that was pretty wishful thinking then.

I smiled to myself now as I recalled those thoughts. Or at least, I tried to smile. This wasn't exactly the kind of place for smiling. It felt like so long ago, so long ago that I'd felt that way, so long since I'd felt happiness.

My tired eyes heavily scanned the room. People stood in little clusters, people of all ages, races, occupations, you name it. She had so many friends.

I pretended not to notice the way the people made small talk. They chatted bland chats and smiled pained smiles while all the time their hearts were crumbling on the inside—as was mine—piecing together each others' memories of her, sliver by agonizing sliver.

Most of them avoided my eye; they didn't want to confront me, at least not the majority of them. A few did hold my gaze for a moment, offering comforting smiles, which I ignored completely. Why did they think a stupid smile is going to make me feel any better? If anything, it made me feel worse. Their petty smiles carved the hole in my stomach even deeper than it had been.

None of these people understood what I felt. Nobody could replicate the emotion I harbored deep in the pit of my stomach. Some say it's my heart, but those who really know me would call that laughable. It was something much deeper than that.

It was quite impossible to stand in one spot for longer than a few minutes without being mobbed, so I meandered over to the bulletin board composed of hundreds and hundreds of photographs. Her sister had put this one together. I'd refused to even look at a photo of her, at the time. I couldn't bear it. I was better now, but not by much.

Every single photo was different, but every single photo had her dazzling eyes and sparkling smile in one form or another. She had so many different faces, so many different ways of expressing her emotions through her eyes, I could tell exactly what she had been thinking in every shot. A lot of them had me in them, though I wasn't nearly as photogenic as she. And I never smiled. I couldn't find a single photo in which I was smiling...

Wait. There was one.

It was from our wedding.

I don't think she's ever looked more beautiful. They'd done up her hair in a thick updo that allowed a few curly strands to cascade down on her bare shoulders. A glistening tiara sat atop her head that held in place the short veil.

And her dress—oh, her dress. It hugged her features so perfectly, so flawlessly that it was a damn good thing I wasn't allowed to see it ahead of time. I looked so bland, so boring, so _stupid_ compared to her. That dazzlingly white fabric completely drowned me out and drowned my emotions all at the same time. And I was smiling because she was smiling.

"You should get that one framed."

I didn't move at the sound of my brother's voice. He placed a sturdy hand on my shoulder and applied a small amount of pressure. Though I knew he didn't mean much by it, the gesture sent a ripple of warmth through my body.

"I wouldn't know what to do with it."

I turned away from the bulletin board, away from him. I heard him shift behind me and he stepped into my line of vision, placing his other hand on my shoulder. Though his dark raven locks peeked flecks of white, in age and sadness, the laughing look never faded from his emerald irises.

"She never did frown, did she?"

I smirked. "Only when I disappointed her."

"She was never disappointed in you," he said softly. "Only out of love."

I knew it was sort of considered respectful to cry at a funeral, but I've never done that, ever. Quite honestly, I had no idea how. I don't even think I cried at my own birth. My own kids did, god knows they cried 'til the cows came home, but I never did.

I knew they were talking about me. "Is he gonna be okay?" they were asking. "Has it hit him yet?" they said. All because I didn't cry. I didn't see why they expected me to. I wasn't that breakable.

I overheard my sister-in-laws weeping loudly at the casket. Bubbles' short white hair was tucked under a small black hat, a black veil shielding her face though she tucked her hands underneath it to hold a tissue to her eyes. A plain black dress adorned her elderly body, a matching black shawl draped over her shoulders.

Buttercup was dressed similarly, minus the hat and shawl, her own black dress far smaller than her sisters'. She'd always been the shortest one, I remember. Short and small but deadly. Now was one of the few times when I'd seen her act her size, looking so small and frail there by her sister's casket. Her own short hair still held it's midnight lustre, and I smirked as I concluded she held the most youth of us all.

Butch followed my gaze with a sigh, moving to stand behind his wife. She placed her hand over his on her shoulders as they shook with her silent tears.

I cringed when I saw Bubbles look away from them. We'd lost Boomer a while back to that deadly phenomenon they call cancer, and she hadn't been the same since. My legs twitched as I knew I should go stand behind her, comfort and console her, but I refused to let myself budge. Every step I took closer to that casket was a twist of the knife already buried deep in my chest.

The hole burned and crackled as the women stood up, turning to face me with red, puffy, tear-stricken eyes.

Bubbles immediately went to my side, squeezing my arm and meeting my eyes with a knowing expression. I know I'll never forget that look on her face as she looked at me in that moment. I felt like she was the only one who truly understood me, the only one out of everyone here who knew and felt my pain. Buttercup and Butch stood aside, intertwined in each others' arms, the former appearing as a child in her husband's shadow.

For a moment, it was just me and Bubbles in that funeral home, just me and her, and nobody else. We were holding each other and feeling the same, we knew, we both knew, but nobody else could know our pain. It was Bubbles and me and that was it.

Until she spoke softly and broke the atmosphere, snapping my eyes to her face again.

"You're gonna regret it if you don't say goodbye, you know."

I frowned. I knew that. But I couldn't. I couldn't resist the temptation anymore. My eyes found the casket where my beloved lay, her eyes closed peacefully as she rested. I knew now that I couldn't tear them away.

Bubbles stepped aside to grant me access, and poked me in the back to encourage me. I leaned on my walking stick as I slowly made my way towards my love.

She looked so peaceful. Too peaceful, in fact. Her hands were folded gently over her stomach, and her eyes were closed. I shuddered to think that she'd never again open them, never again would she look to me with that sparkling and loving expression she wore so well.

I placed my hand over hers, and my vision became blurry. I blinked the alien tears from my eyes in confusion and anger. Nobody could understand. My beautiful, darling, perfect Blossom would smile, would laugh, would be no more. Never again would I wake up to her smiling face and a kiss good morning. Never again would we dance, would I hold her in my arms as we twirled around each other in endless bliss. She loved to dance. I would never hold her hand again, I would never feel the pressure of her fingers against mine as we watched the grandchildren play the day away. Never again. She was gone.

I suddenly felt the weight of the world and the agony of old age beating down upon my shoulders. Using all of my strength, I leaned down to her and pressed my lips against her forehead. Her cold skin sent chills from my lips to my toes, and I shuddered.

"Sleep well, my beautiful cherry blossom," I whispered to her. "I will never stop loving you."

I knew they heard it. Even in age their superhearing hadn't faded. I didn't care, though. I wished it had been me. I wished I would die that so I could be with her again. I felt Buttercup's strong grip on my elbow as I took a deep breath.

"She knows," she whispered into my arm. "She's always known."

I tore my eyes away from her, my beloved, my Blossom, and shut my eyes tightly. Buttercup wrapped her skinny arms around me and squeezed the air right out of my chest.

My lips found her hair and I planted a kiss on the top of her head, too. My eyes met my brother's.

Butch's eyes never stopped laughing, Buttercup's strength never seemed to fade, and Bubbles' smile never faltered. There were some things that just never went away.

And never is a long time.

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_Review and I'll cook you a gourmet breakfast c:_


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